


Last Night

by flyinglikearaven (Love_Sparkles_Happiness)



Series: the 100 modern au [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, aboard the minty ship ahoy, minty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Sparkles_Happiness/pseuds/flyinglikearaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the hell happened last night, feat. a very drunk Monty who shows up at the same bar as a bored but somehow vaguely sober Miller, and, as fate has it, they find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting up for the Stars to Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> insp by a kind of the vamps/ good charlotte? idk

"Come with me."

A hand grabbed onto Miller's arm. He followed the hand to find (surprise) a person on the end of it. A amazingly cute person. Boy, to be specific (Miller usually wasn't). And... wait, what?

"Come with me." The boy repeated impatiently. His hand found Miller's and he tugged on it, effectively pulling Miller from his seat at the bar. Miller did his level best to ignore the tingles that ran through it. "We're going on an adventure."

"What? No way."

"Why _not_?" The boy stuck his bottom lip out into a pout.

"Besides the fact that you're flat out drunk? Um, I don't know you? You could be a serial killer for all I know. "

"Im not. "

"And you see, that is _exactly_ what someone with eight dead bodies stashed in their basement would say."

The kid's black hair was falling into his face. He was unknowingly mumbling the tune of Disney's 'Kiss the girl' under his breath. At least, Miller presumed it was unknowingly. But what did he know - maybe it was a good pick up tactic. "Don't have a basement." He sung to the tune.

Miller was dismissive. "Whatever. Why me? _I_ could be a serial killer. "

"But I _know_ you. You're Matt Smith. I'm in _love_ with you."

Miller snorted, his cheeks flushing pink. The rational part of him was thinking that no way was he ever going anywhere with this kid. But there was another tiny part of him, right in the back corner of his mind. Saying that he was really cute, and definitely queer. So that was good. And really, wasn't it his sort of duty, as random stranger at the bar, to make sure this stunningly cute guy didn't get into trouble? Wasnt it his role, as a semi-good human being, to help out this poor boy with jet black hair he wanted to run his fingers through? Absolutely. Besides, Miller was having a boring evening. Ever since Bellamy had started dating that blonde girl, he had had less and less time to just hang out with Miller. Which was fine, he guessed, and he was trying to make time for his best friend, which is probably more than what most people would do if they had someone like Clarke. But surely one night actually doing something wouldn't hurt, right?

"I'm not Matt Smith. I'm Nathan." He wasn't quite sure what him introduce himself like that - no one had called him his first name since freshman year after his first big fistfight. Miller was a more suitable title for that scowly scary antisocial kid at the back.

The boy pointed in a vague sort of drunken way at him, a smile lighting up his face. "See, you told me your name! You can't be a serial killer, because now I could turn you in."

It occurred to Miller that a name to give in ultimately doesn't do that much of you're already dead, but sure, why not. "I still dont know you."

"Yeah, you do. Nathan Miller, right? I'm in your Bio class. I'm Monty Green."

The name did sound familiar. The Bio class was split into two halves; those that actually enjoyed it and those that were just taking it to fulfil their credit. Guess which side Miller was on. Clue: he was normally sleeping. Monty however, was some kind of all round genius. He saw his name on class lists, and watched him receive all sorts of class prizes. He was surprised he didnt recognise him earlier, actually.

Monty was still holding his hand. It was very distracting.

"Alright."

Monty cheered and pulled him out of the crowded bar and into the late night buzz of the city.


	2. The Sugar Plum Monty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monty and Miller wake up with zero recollection and an... interesting new look.

Miller knew he'd definitely made the wrong decision when he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, wearing a fairy tutu. He didn't remember anything, much less have any clue just how he managed to get himself back to his apartment. Sitting up and running his hand through his hair, he groaned at the light steaming into his eyes and then groaned even harder at the sheer amount of glitter in his curly locks. What the hell had happened? Last thing he knew he'd just been leaving the bar with... Monty. He cursed. _Dammit._

Pulling off the fluorescent pink skirt, he made his way through into the kitchen. It looked all right, despite the disturbing amount of cookie dough in the kettle, and the sugar spread all over the counter. It was at least fixable. Miller's kitchen had seen worse days.

He grabbed a wet cloth from beside the sink and was about to wipe up the sparkling grains when he noticed a message written it: 'Thank you Nate. Love, the Sugar Plum Monty.' And underneath that was a phone number written carefully with a flourish on every 8. Miller closed his eyes for a second, before running to get his phone and log the number in it. _I am so screwed._

He sent a quick message: **"hey there sugar plum monty. its nate."**

Which was followed with a reply a few seconds later: **"oh god oh god oh god."**

**"wow"**

**"...yeah. fun night last night huh."**

**"you remember it??"**

**"no... all I know is I woke up with butterfly facepaint and glitter fucking everywhere."**

**"ah so we're on the same page. at least you dont have a tutu."**

**"nope. sporting one of those as well."**

**"was it you that put cookie dough in my kettle? that's gonna be hell to clean out monts."**

**"probably. sorry."**

Miller paused over the keyboard, unsure of what to say next. He typed three separate message starters and deleted them all. Monty was probably getting the typing dots and anticipating some great reply, but Miller could not for the life of him decide what to text. He knew what he wanted to say but...

His phone pinged; he was saved. It was Monty. **"maybe I could come over this afternoon and help you clear it up?"**

Followed by **"if you want."**

Followed by **"because it was probably kinda my fault."**

Followed by **"but I understand if you dont want to see me."**

"because you dont really know me."

**"well you met me last night but neither of us remember so."**

**"you didnt really."**

**"and why would you want to be friends with someone who put cookie mix in your kettle."**

**"but you might?"**

**"or not."**

As cute as Monty's rambling was, Miller intercepted the flow of messages before they could get any more anxiously awkward: **"sure, three good for you?"**

It was. Miller texted his address and then promptly began to freak out because Monty was coming over and he had pink sparkles in his hair. Miller had never run to the shower faster.


	3. Early Arrival

There was a loud knock on Miller's front door. He cursed, dropping his towel. He was still dripping from the shower and from his clock, Monty was early. And Miller was in a towel. Great.

"Coming!" He called out. Quickly, he pulled his jeans up over his legs. The water made the denim stick, and he hopped, still pulling them up, to the door.

After peering through the window to affirm that it was actually Monty (it was), Miller opened the door, smiling.

"Hey Monty."

The other boy blushed profusely, mouth slightly open. He cleared his throat. "Oh, okay, _um_ , you're not wearing a shirt?"

Miller froze. Monty was still having trouble looking him in the actual eye - apparently Miller's toned stomach was a better view.

"Shit, sorry, I just got out the shower. I'll go get one. Feel free to come in."

Monty was in the kitchen when Miller resurfaced in a faded red tshirt that didnt completely manage to hide all that Monty had found so distracting. He smiled. Monty smiled back, and their gazes connected with something of magnetic force. Monty broke away first, to survey the wreckage.

"I now see what you mean about your kettle. I had trouble picturing it over the phone but its _so_ much clearer now."

"Yeah. It's um... quite something." Miller moved around the counter and gestured to Monty's message. "And this."

Monty burst into laughter - it was a nice laugh, a happy one, and it made Miller's heart ache slightly with longing. "The Sugar Plum Monty?" His expression was gleeful. "God, I can't believe I wrote that. Just how drunk was I?"

Miller scratched his head. "From what I remember, you were completely shitfaced before you even got to me, and judging by the headache I got this morning, I would say very."

Monty was staring at the kettle, thoughtfully. "Nate, how clean is your kettle?"

"Pretty clean, why?"

"Do you think," Monty was smiling now, "that the cookie dough is salvageable?"


	4. All Along It Was A Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> monts and the millster bake cookies, and there's something else cooking (between them)  
> I mean they love each other. obvs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title insp by Stay by Rihanna because it has the sort of vibes I was looking for for this chapter. 
> 
> (Finally!)

This had been wild from start to finish. Not like, what Miller would normally describe as wild, no – normal wild was dancing to too-loud music, drinking too much cheap alcohol and maybe watching Bellamy accidentally kiss too many people. But this? Making cookies with a Bio nerd he met at a bar yesterday and went on an adventure with (that neither of them remember but somehow involved tutus, butterfly face-paint and a shit-ton of glitter)? That was a whole new brand of completely crazy.

 

Fun crazy, though. Monty was good company, and he knew how to bake – even with only barely salvageable cookie dough – which was more than any of Miller’s exes could vouch for. (Although, to be fair, they'd all been in 5th grade so.)

 

Okay, so maybe Miller was slowly falling in love with Monty Green to the gorgeous smell of baking cookies while he laughed and got beers out of the fridge for both of them. But probably nothing would ever happen – Miller didn’t like to force himself onto people he just met, even if that person was as sparky and cute and loveable as Monty.

 

Miller excused himself and went into the bathroom. He stood, looking at himself in the mirror, hands gripping the sides of the sink too hard. _Get a grip Miller_. It wasn’t like Miller had never had feelings for someone before – there was that crush on Fox in fourth grade, and then he’d had a huge thing for Bellamy in the ninth grade (not that his best friend had known, or would ever know, about that). But this time, it was different. It had never happened _this fast_. Fox had taken months to grow on him; Bellamy, _years_. He’d met Monty _yesterday_ (or today if you don’t count the bits they didn’t remember). And the speed was only half the scariness. _Everything_ about Monty was cute, or entrancing, or fascinating, and the need to get to know him better (like so much better) was so intense that it was twisting Miller’s gut even at the thought of it.

 

In the distance, the oven timer went off, bringing Miler back to reality. He splashed his face with water and forced himself back into the kitchen. He entered to see Monty leaning awkwardly against the kitchen counter, face slightly flushed.

 

“How’re the cookies?”

 

“I put them back in for another two minutes. They’re probably safe to eat but I like my cookies crunchier.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” Monty blushed a darker shade of red. He had a phone in his hand, Miller noticed. It was _Miller’s_ phone, actually. He must have left it on the kitchen counter from last night – it was covered in a light dusting of flour from their baking escapades.

 

Monty tossed it from hand to hand, awkwardly. “Um, there’s probably something you should see.” He threw the phone to Miller, who caught it, fumbling a bit.

 

He wiped the flour-dust off it. “See, it’s alright. No permanent damage. “

 

“Not the _flour_ , Nate. I’m not an idiot.” Monty bit his bottom lip – he had nice lips, pink and soft-looking. Also apparently somewhat distracting. Very distracting, actually. “Look at the lock screen.”

 

Miller clicked his phone on, and stared at the picture behind the digital clock, feeling his face visibly heating. The image of him and Monty kissing (which he had been very vividly imagining just a second ago) was right there, on the screen of his phone. He looked up at Monty, who was very interested in everything but Miller and was currently picking at his nails.

 

“Um. Wow. Okay.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How in hell do I not remember _that_?”

 

Monty looked up at him, hopeful but anxious. “How do you mean?”

 

“I mean, well, I mean.” _Smooth Miller, very smooth._ “Well, “ He cleared his throat, “I’m just gonna say it straight up – well straight probably isn’t the right word to use but –” He chuckled nervously, and Monty took a step towards him, intrigued. “I kissed possibly the cutest, smartest, most amazing and attractive boy I have ever met last night, and I don’t _remember it?_ Seems like some sort of crime to me.”

Bashful, Monty took a step closer to him. “You really mean that?”

 

Too late to back out now. “I really do.”

 

“We could always,” Monty moistened his lips nervously, leaving them shining and succulent, “refresh your memory?”

 

“That sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had, genius.”


	5. And It's You That Burns Brightest of All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff fluff fluff fluff miller and monty are cute fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so this is the last chapter - tell me what you think!  
> suggestions/ prompts/ aus are much loved if you wanna  
> what should i do next?

It was hard for Miller to do anything else but stand there – sure, Monty had suggested the idea, but what if he didn’t mean it? He couldn’t face being rejected by the younger boy, so he just put his hands on Monty’s hips and pulled them closer together, unsure what to do next.

 

Thankfully, Monty seemed eager to initiate. He looked at Nate’s flushed face and laughed slightly (not that he had any cause to – his own countenance was just as red). “What, you never been kissed before or something?”

 

Nate’s blush deepened. He mumbled something under his breath that Monty didn’t catch, but he looked at him in surprise after his deduction.

 

“You _haven’t_ , have you?”

 

The other boy offered up a shy smile, shaking his head. “Not before last night.”

 

“I couldn’t even begin to think why not,” Monty murmured, leaning up on his tiptoes, “But just close your eyes and it’ll come naturally, promise.” Miller could feel his warm breath on his face, and followed his instructions.

 

And then Monty’s lips connected with his and everything Bellamy had ever told him (in probably way too much detail) about how kissing Clarke felt made sense. Monty was gentle and warm as a hug, and he tasted of sweet cookie dough as his lips caressed Miller’s.

 

At last, he pulled back, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. “Remember now?” He asked, slightly breathless.

 

Miller smirked. “I may need a little more refreshing before it fully comes back.” Monty tackled him then, in a much, much fiercer attempt than their gentle previous encounter, wrapping his legs around Miller’s waist, pushing him back up against the kitchen counter. Miller steadied himself with his hands on the granite, before moving his hands up to the back of the smaller boy’s neck, hands entangling in and running through his soft black hair. Monty let out a moan as Nate’s hands ran over his angular shoulders.

 

They lost track of time right about then, lost track of pretty much anything but each other. But then a piercing beeping noise rang through the apartment, and Monty loosened the hold of his legs on Miller’s waist, jumping to the floor. Miller’s hands were still hooked around the Asian boy’s waist, and he wriggled to free himself.

 

“That’s the cookies, Nate.”

 

“I don’t really care about the fucking cookies, Monty.”

 

Monty gasped at him, and Miller felt a jolt of _something_ run right through him at the shock on Monty’s face. He let Monty duck out from under Nathan’s arms, smiling fondly as Monty rushed to the oven gloves.

 

“Ooh, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He opened the oven door and a wave of heat enveloped the room as he pulled the (not burnt, _caramelized_ ) cookies out and onto the counter.

 

“No, I kiss you and you like it.”

 

Monty smiled again, that dazzling grin that made Nate’s knees weak. “Only one night and you know me so well.”

 

And as it turned out, cookies weren’t so bad after all; a little crumbly maybe, but it gave Nate an excuse to lick those crumbs off Monty’s lips.

 

He never did change his phone lock screen.


End file.
